Trials of Love
by Echo Frosts
Summary: Sequel to "The Heart of a Hero." Maou is committed to turning his life around and becoming the Hero he wants to be; this causes quite the stir in the (ever increasingly occupied) Maou household. Join Maou, Emi and Co. as they attempt to work through the insanity, silliness, pain, love, emotions and trials that seem to follow the couple wherever they go!
1. Iustia's Goodbye

**A/N: First of all: read "The Heart of a Hero" if you haven't, as this is a sequel. You will be confused otherwise.**

**If anyone is an artist and would like to do some cover art, please contact me! :D**

**To returning readers: forgive me; this is not a masterpiece. I included Iustia again (I know y'all hate him, but I needed him to practice my humor/serious writing combination); please let me know how this strikes you. Does the humor work? Does the serious part clash too much? Is your heart moved for this new, random character? Did you enjoy Urushihara's excitement at the end (I am _convinced_ he'd become an otaku of _at least_ that level).**

**Time is limited for me, nowadays; do not expect me to update at regular intervals. Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"Sire, what do you mean by 'couple'?"<p>

Maou raised an eyebrow at Ashiya and opened his mouth to speak–

"Because you can't mean a romantic relationship. The terms don't make sense."

"The terms?"

"You: the Devil King. Emilia the Hero."

"So?" Maou shrugged. "What's wrong with that idea?"

"Let me explain it," Urushihara butted in. The three were gathered around the sole table in their cramped apartment; Maou had called a meeting to discuss the events of the past few weeks with them. Emi had finally recovered from the events of "the Incident" (as her friends and frenemies called the attempted murder), and Maou was back in the house for good; he thought it best to let everyone know where he and Emi stood.

But he seemed to be running into difficulties.

"You see, Maou, as the geniuses in computer science would say–"

"He's not going to get a reference to whatever it is that _you_ do, Urushihara–"

"I know _you're_ too stupid to understand it, but to insult the Devil King to his face? Wow, Ashiya, you've sure grown some brass–"

"Ashiya! Urushihara!" Maou snapped, getting impatient. "Do you have a point?"

"Well, yes," Urushihara coughed, "my point–"

"Our point." Ashiya growled.

"–is that you and Emi are like darkness and light." He paused. "No, it's not even likeness. You _literally are_ darkness to her light. Where she shines, you can't be. By definition."

"You know, because when light shines…" Ashiya began to explain the analogy, but Maou slapped him.

"Idiot. I know that!" He frowned at them. "But look: can't we put this whole 'darkness,' 'evil' thing behind us? I mean, it just doesn't sound…"

"Politically correct?" Urushihara offered.

"I was thinking 'normal' and 'sane.'"

"But Sire. You're the Devil King. It's your nature. Literally."

"Yeah, well…" Maou scratched his head.

They watched him.

"I, uh…"

They leaned in closer.

His face turned redder under their combined scrutiny.

"I don't really want to be a demon anymore."

"WHAT?" Ashiya gaped at him. Urushihara shrugged.

"Cool with me. I like this world." He turned back to his computer.

Ashiya whirled about and faced Urushihara's back. "Lucifer! How can you say that? You, one of the great–"

He waved him off. "Look, you guys figure this out. I'm going to watch Youtube videos."

Maou stood. "Well, sounds good! Glad you both agree! Now–"

"I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS!" Ashiya yelled, pointing angrily at him, as Maou slipped out the door.

The room was silent for a moment, before Urushihara chuckled.

"What?" Ashiya asked, exasperated.

"He isn't working a shift tonight. So guess where he's going."

Ashiya's jaw dropped. "No! He can't be!"

Urushihara pulled up a map on Google. "I turned on the location finder on his new smartphone–"

"HE HAS A WHAT?!"

"–so we can see where he is…"

Sure enough, the blue dot wound its way to Emi's apartment building. Ashiya collapsed on the ground, moaning.

"Looks like our little Maou is getting sweet on Emi! Isn't that something?" Urushihara cooed, poking Ashiya.

"Stop torturing me…" He groaned.

"What about torture?"

Ashiya shrieked. Standing in the (now open) front door was Suzuno. She watched them with passionless eyes.

"Uh…" Urushihara gaped at her. "How did you get in?"

"I opened the door."

"But it was locked."

She paused, looking slightly guiltier.

"I opened the door."

Ashiya sighed. "This house is going to kill me. Slowly, painfully and certainly."

"I can make it more sudden and painless, if you'd like."

Urshihara laughed. "She's certainly forward, I'll give you that."

Ashiya looked at her pleadingly. "Please tell me that you, of all people, agree that _a demon is always a demon_, and can't just 'magically' become something else!" He used air quotations around magic, making it seem less than reputable. Ironic, considering what they were talking about.

"Of course they can. I've transformed demons into corpses plenty of times." She shrugged, as Ashiya fainted.

"How can you say that so casually?" Urushihara frowned at her.

"Because it's true."

"You don't have much tact, do you." He glanced at Ashiya, who was laying on the ground. Suzuno nudged him with her foot.

Ashiya didn't move, because he really had fainted.

"On a serious note, now that Ashiya's out for the count," Urushihara swiveled from the computer to face her, "what do you think of the Maou-Emi situation?"

"Not going to work."

"As blunt as your hammer, I see."

She snorted. "He's a demon. She's part angel. They aren't compatible."

He sighed, and leaned back. "Rather a pity, I suppose. After what happened and all."

Her gaze softened, as she looked at the table in thought. "Indubitably."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indubitably?"

"Is that not common?"

"Try substituting 'yeah' or 'ok' instead."

"Yeah, ok."

He smirked. "I see what you did there."

He and Suzuno looked at each other for a moment, before he awkwardly looked away.

"So…"

Suzuno stared.

"Do you need something?"

"No."

"Ah. Well–" he turned to the computer, "I'll just be working on this, so…"

She walked over beside him and glanced curiously at the screen. He was on Youtube, pulling up a new anime. He glanced at her puzzled expression.

"Do you have a TV in your room?"

She shook her head. He smirked.

"Then allow me to introduce you to the world of anime…"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Maou lay on the ground in Emi's apartment.<p>

_How did it come to this? _He idly wondered, as he glanced over to Emi and their…guest.

For reasons unknown to him, Emi had invited Archangel Iustia to join them for their exercise and game day.

He was standing in exercise clothes with Emi in front of the television, stretched over a mat. They both were doing the splits. A caddy lady from the television was insulting them while showing them stretches.

"Now, stretch towards your left foot with your right hand–assuming you can reach past the rolls of fat in your belly."

"My belly is impeccable." Archangel Iustia said, with a serious face.

Emi sighed. "How many times must I repeat that _she's not talking about you_!"

"Oh." He glanced at her. "You conceal your rolls of fat well."

"SHE'S NOT TALKING ABOUT ME EITHER!"

"Hey, Emi." Maou tried to draw her attention.

"Hmm?"

"You know, there's been something on my mind…"

"Well, Lord knows there can't be anything _in_ it, so _on_ makes more sense–"

"Hey!"

Emi laughed and smirked at him.

"Anyway…why, exactly, did you invite _him _here?" He frowned as forcefully as he could towards Iustia, who continued to stretch.

"If you want to be a hero, Maou, the first thing to do is learn empathy."

Maou crossed his arms, frowning again. "You shouldn't talk down to me, Emi. I know how to be good! You were the one hell-bent on killing me in the first place!"

Emi raised an eyebrow at him. "That's rich, coming from the guy who tried to assassinate Iustia when he was talking to a priest."

Yeah, he did that. After the whole murder fiasco, he investigated who attempted to kill her. It didn't take him long to find the Archangel. Thankfully, Emi was alerted by Suzuno, and arrived in time to prevent Maou from leveling the church, priest and all.

Maou looked down at the ground. "Look, can you blame me? He murdered you!"

"You _do_ realize I'm not dead, right?

"Attempted murder, then! But how could you expect me to sit back and do nothing?"

"You aren't supposed to do nothing, Maou!" She looked at him with a tired smile. "You're supposed to love. That's what a Hero does."

He eyed her in return. "That's rich, coming from the girl who chased me to Earth to gain vengeance."

She shook her head. "I thought you were going to keep killing; there's a rather deep difference. After all, I ended up sparing you, didn't I?"

He looked down, ashamed for a moment. "You did a lot more than that."

The words from her faux-death note arose in his mind once more:

_I have always been destined to die to save someone else. That someone is you._

"Hey!" Emi walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Let's not go down memory lane, alright?"

"Alright," he looked up at her with a slight smile. "Ok."

"Good." She leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the lovely scent of her hair. She pulled away after a moment and retreated to the exercise mat.

"The point of this, Maou, is to ask the question _why_. The answer never excuses the evil of their actions, but it does give you something more important."

He looked at her questioningly.

"A way to love them."

With that, the exercise show ended, and Emi turned off the television. She turned to the two men.

"Iustia."

He nodded, turning and sitting down in front of Maou. Emi sat perpendicular to them both.

"I will speak as frankly as I can." He sat at attention, like a stone guardian carved into the side of an ancient castle; but as he spoke, he seemed to loosen. He appeared more human.

"My duty is to be the Archangel of Justice; in order to accomplish this and ensure that I do not stray from my duties, the other angels used a powerful kind of magic on the angels who occupied this post before me." He took a deep breath.

"I experience the sufferings of men."

Maou raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? You clearly didn't feel _her_ suffering when you–"

"Maou." Emi growled. He clamped his mouth shut.

"It's not for all humans, of course; no one could withstand such pain."

"I wouldn't say no one." Emi said softly. Iustia glanced at her, blinking, before nodding slowly.

"Perhaps not."

Maou was entirely lost. "What're you talking about?"

Emi shook her head. "Irrelevant; sorry. Please continue."

Iustia did so. "Do you know the Church of Justice in the capital of each of the islands in Ente Isla?"

"Of course."

"I am the guardian angel of those churches; when a human prays for justice, I hear their prayers directly in my mind; and, more importantly, I feel the pain in their heart within my own whenever I'm in the heavenly plane. Only engaging in warfare and duties of justice causes the pain to cease."

Maou blinked. The Church of Justice was famous for holding vigils during the War, where all those wounded by the War came to beg for justice for their fallen loved ones. He used to imagine they did it to raise the anger of the populace, and hopefully recruit more soldiers.

But if their prayers tormented the heart of one of the greatest Archangels…

"Those vigils weren't for ceremony. They were forcing your hand." Maou said, in sudden realization.

Iustia nodded. "Every time one of those vigils was hosted, it was an onslaught of pain; I had to force myself, almost constantly, to the battlefield to fight. The War forced me to become nothing more than a soldier, haunted by the pains of all Ente Isla."

Maou shook his head as he leaned back. Normally, angels and demons never had problems with PTSD; angels descending to Earth to fight...

While not rare, it was certainly temporary. The heavenly plane was another civilization entirely, just as the demonic isle was its own civilization. Though they were at war, the majority of heavenly citizens did not fight. They had lives of their own. To think that this angel's home was filled with the heartbreak of all those survivors of the war…

In a sense, Iustia suffered from PTSD, but in an opposite way; it was his home that haunted him, and drove him to war.

"I…I admit, I don't know what to say." Maou shrugged uselessly. "That's really painful. I'm sorry that happened to you."

Iustia nodded. "But that fact will never excuse what I did." He bowed his head. "My fear of feeling that pain and heartbreak drove me into the pursuit of justice to the point where nothing mattered but doing my duty. I suppose that's what the Council of Heaven intended when they set this curse upon my office: to make a soldier and dog of war, who would do anything they commanded. Even if it was, in reality, unjust. Just to make the pain stop…"

"They're torturing you!" Maou said with a stupefied look. "How–how can they–angels!–such hypocrites!"

Iustia gave a sad smile. "I always had the option to abandon my post and mantle, but I was afraid to be labeled a deserter and cast out. So I let them drive me to this…to murder…"

He leaned forward, resting his head between his hands.

"It wasn't until this case that I really considered my duty. Whether this was truly justice, and whether heaven is truly Heaven–where the will of God reigns." He shook his head and looked up. Maou was shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes.

"I know that a simply apology will never make anything better, but," he fell onto the ground and planted himself against the floor, "I am horrified at what I did and who I became. I am sorry, with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my strength, for attempting to kill her!"

Maou's eyes began to dampen. Now that he knew his pain, his suffering, he became more real to him. Iustia was no longer an evil murderer, cackling in the shadows, who ought to be destroyed. Now he was a broken human, driven to darkness, but who Emi and this unnamed priest dragged back into the light.

In other words: he was just like Maou.

With this realization, Maou fell to the ground before Iustia.

"You do not bear the guilt alone!" He cried out, his own heart breaking. Memories of Emi flooded his mind: nailed to the wall; bloodied; torn; in pain; dying; all for his sins.

"It was my evil which caused those people pain and, ultimately, tortured you! I deserved every bit of the pain you came to deliver! No; I deserved worse! All the burden you bear for murder, I bear a thousand-fold!"

"Which is why neither of you ought to be burdened anymore." Emi said, as she knelt beside the two and embraced both of their prostrate forms. "Love does not solely suffer for the beloved; it also brings them back to life. So if you truly wish to atone, and let my suffering have meaning: then live. Both of you. Live lives of love."

Yes, thought Maou and Iustia both. Let us live. Let us love.

Let us be Heroes.

* * *

><p>It was several hours later that Maou returned to his apartment. He had bid Iustia a teary farewell, as the Archangel went to resign from his post and denounce the heavenly court for the evils they imposed on him. He would likely be severely punished, but he was their greatest soldier; it was doubtful they would kill him, as the other angelic warriors would be furious. After all, soldiers suffer together; an attack against one is an attack against them all.<p>

Upon unlocking the door to the apartment, he heard a strange sound.

Crying.

His eyes grew wide. "What happened?!"

He burst through the door, power surging in his body, to find a scene that stupefied him. Suzuno and Urushihara lay on the floor, watching an anime of Urushihara's laptop. Both were weeping–Suzuno in Urushihara's shoulder, and Urushihara in the hem of her kimono. She didn't seem to care. Or perhaps even notice at all.

"Oh–he's hugging her! My heart's going to burst!" Suzuno cried out. This alone would have caused Maou's mind to die from sheer shock; but Urushihara's overly emotional reactions did him in.

"AHHHH ASUNA'S SO BEAUTIFUL! THEY'REKISSINGAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He burst into tears.

"I LOVE this couple!" Suzuno gushed.

"Oh, just wait until Sinon comes next season. She's even MORE adorable! And her cat ears~!"

Maou fainted.


	2. The Mystery of the Running Refrigerator

**A/N: Rejoice and be glad, for another chapter has come. There's a ton of ridiculousness in this one, mostly about Ashiya. _I regret nothing!_ Also some Emi/Maou and Texan accents. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Emi's cell phone rang.<p>

While this was not unusual, this case deserves special mention. Mainly because of the contents of the call, and the extremely gullible person who picked up the phone.

"Emi Yusa's phone." Ashiya answered, a look of disgust evident on his face.

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"Well," Ashiya cocked his head, "probably."

"Then you better go catch it!" There were some giggles in the background.

However, the kids who made the prank call had no idea what horrors they just caused.

There was silence, as Ashiya stared at the phone in horror.

"_I knew it_!" Ashiya yelled, throwing the phone against the fluffy couch pillow. "I knew that a 70% discount on a refrigerator was too good to be true!"

"What?" Maou glanced over at him. They were both in Emi's apartment; Emi was in her room, preparing herself for a night out with Maou and the gang. Maou decided to escort her; Ashiya followed him to her apartment.

"I apologize, Sire, but I must go. We've been betrayed."

"A traitor?" Maou half-rose, but Ashiya pushed him back onto the couch.

"Be not afraid! Your trusty General will take care of this!" Ashiya said, stamping his chest proudly. "Be vigilant!"

And so began the Mystery of the Running Refrigerator.

Ashiya dashed out of the apartment; Maou looked on in amusement, before pulling out his phone and texting Urushihara.

_Great job. Worked perfectly; he left right away._

He swiftly received a reply.

_'Twas my pleasure._

Maou got the feeling that wasn't the first time Uru and Suzuna placed a prank call.

A noise behind him made him turn around, slipping the phone back into his pocket. The sight made his jaw drop.

The door to Emi's room was open, and out she had stepped. She was dressed in a long, flowing green dress; her red hair cascaded down her shoulders. She was stunning–radiantly beautiful! Maou swore his heart skipped a beat.

He, on the other hand, was dressed in jeans and a button down shirt.

The moment she saw him, her smile morphed into a frown. Her eyes narrowed.

"…you must be joking."

"Uh, hold on," he held up his hands pleadingly, "I didn't think–"

"Clearly." She began to stalk towards him.

"Well, the website didn't give us information on the dress attire–"

"You mean, besides the name of the event: Orchestral Performance of Handel's _Messiah_?" She stopped near the TV, picking up a baseball bat.

"Well, how was I to know that orchestras required formal wear?" He began to inch towards the door.

"Perhaps by the fact that all the pictures were of men in suits and tuxedos?" She angled her approach, cutting off his route to the door. He glanced around the apartment, looking for another exit.

It's a no go. He swallowed.

_If I can't calm her down, there's always the window_, he reasoned. A five story drop isn't as terrible as an angry Emi Yusa.

As she drew near to him, she sighed and plopped down on the couch, tossing the baseball bat into a corner. "Did you really not know about the dress code, or were you trying to send me a not-so-subtle message?"

He cocked his head. "Well, the message still seems pretty subtle to me, since I haven't seen it yet."

She eyed him. "Something along the lines of: 'I don't want to go, so I'm dressing poorly, hoping to force your hand'?"

His eyes widened. He shook his hands violently. "Oh! No! No, not at all!"

She blinked. "Oh." Her voice brightened a little. "Really?"

"Yeah. Seriously." He sat down on the couch beside her, scratching his head. "I'm sorry, Emi; I really am. As stupid as it sounds, I just didn't think about it."

They sat for a moment in silence before Emi spoke again. "…I really ought to be the one apologizing, actually."

"Eh?" He raised an eyebrow. This was rare.

She gave him a pre-emptive glare to stave off any more thoughts along that particular train. He held back a smile, and waved her on. She continued.

"I know that you three living together are still barely scraping by on the monthly expenses; I should have realized that you wouldn't have the money to spend on buying an expensive suit."

"Well," he shrugged, "you'd be surprised. We've actually gained a new source of income."

"Huh?" She glanced at him, surprised.

"Yeah. Ashiya, believe it or not, is exceptionally good at gambling."

Emi's expression fell. "…this time, you better hope you're joking."

"No! I'm serious! He's an incredible poker player!"

"Poker?! But he doesn't have a poker face! He's an open book!"

"And that's precisely how he wins!"

"That makes no sense."

Maou laughed. "That's what I thought. But you don't understand the nuances of his mind. In fact, no one does."

To explain his point, Maou launched into a story of Ashiya's most recent endeavor (as described by Ashiya) into the world of poker. This was at a 1,000,000 yen championship last week at a local club.

* * *

><p>The game was Texas Hold'Em. The player is dealt two cards, which he keeps hidden; then five cards are slowly revealed in the center of the board. Everyone has access to these cards; whoever can construct the best five-card hand from his two cards and three of the five in the middle wins the pot. Betting occurs at various stages of revealing the middle five cards.<p>

The first hand was dealt. Ashiya glanced at the cards in his hand. He sighed.

_A King and a Queen of Hearts…_he sighed. _Why does everything remind me of King Maou and his untimely entanglement with that witch of a woman? My Lord needs no Queen!_

"AUGH!" He cried out loudly, clutching his head. "WHY AM I SO UNLUCKY?!"

He half-heartedly tossed out a small beat; the other players, poker faces set, placed their bets. The first card was unveiled: a Jack of Hearts.

The other players, noticing his foul mood, decided to up the ante. Double the usual.

Ashiya's frown remained. Needless to say, he wasn't paying attention to the game at all. _A Jack. Useless to the Court, doesn't do anything; kind of reminds me of me, doesn't it? Just does the housework! That's all I do! No vacation time, no appreciation–_

"IT'S ALL USELESS!" Ashiya cried out before throwing more chips in, calling their ante.

The second, third and fourth cards were revealed: a Three of Spades, a Nine of Hearts and a Five of Clubs. Ashiya smiled at the Five.

Five's a good number. Four Generals, plus the King: five. Just five.

But his mood soured when he realized that he, Maou, Urushihara, Suzuno and Emi also made five.

"I DESPISE YOU, FIVE! YOU FALSE HOPE!"

He facepalmed. The others took that as encouragement that his hand sucked, and slowly upped the ante. At this point, all but three, Ashiya included, had folded.

He called their bet again, much to their surprise.

The final card was revealed: a Ten of Hearts. The others gasped, as Ashiya mumbled about a lack of spending money.

One gentleman went all in; the other also went all in. Ashiya did the same.

Turns out he had a straight flush, Nine to King, of Hearts. One other had a straight, and the other had a flush. So Ashiya ended up winning a million yen.

* * *

><p>"Turns out he thought the game was about matching colors. So if someone placed a certain colored chip, he threw one of the same in with it. The fact that his thoughts had absolutely nothing to do with the game ended up being the best poker face possible. Nobody had a clue whether he had a great hand or a terrible one."<p>

Emi laughed. "Did someone eventually tell him?"

Maou sighed. "Yeah. It's a real pity; now he can't manage to win at all."

"…what is Ashiya's skill set? Now that I think about it," Emi frowned, "I never knew what he was good at. We never really fought in combat."

"Well…" Maou tapped a finger against his chin, gazing at the ceiling, "he was really good at keeping the books balanced."

"No surprise there."

"Honestly, he's probably the best manager you can imagine. The only reason I'm working the assistant manager position at MgRonalds and not him is because he didn't trust me to be conservative in my shopping. Or to clean the house." He furrowed his brow. "Though, if he did get a job, we'd probably be able to hire a maid."

"Speaking of Ashiya," she glanced around the room, "where'd he go? He came with you, didn't he?"

He smiled with a hint of malice. "He's gone…running."

She frowned at him for a moment before shrugging. "Shall we?" She extended her arm to him.

"You still want to go, even when I'm dressed like this?"

"It's not like I'm the one who will be embarrassed," she said with a laugh.

He sighed, but linked his arm with hers. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed a sigh of content.

"Thanks for playing along."

"Of course; isn't that what the gallant knight's supposed to do?" He asked, as he led her out the door.

"He's also supposed to actually live up to the gallant part."

"I'm working on it."

* * *

><p>Ashiya was indeed running.<p>

Some might think that he cut a strange figure while running: a cloak billowing out behind him (picked up from the house), shining white hair, sprinting at top speed…

But no one was watching him. On the contrary: every eye was riveted on what he was chasing.

It was a refrigerator.

Well, it wasn't _actually _a refrigerator. In reality, it was a very fit person inside of a rather convincing cardboard-imitation refrigerator.

This poor soul had been hired to do a simple job: jog by this certain house, at this certain time, and wave at the silver-haired man walking into the building.

Unfortunately, the silver-haired man started yelling and chasing him.

"I've never heard of magic so…_vile_!" Ashiya cursed before yelling. "I'll tear out your innards, you sorry sod!"

The refrigerator responded: "Well, you did buy them, so I guess that's your prerogative–"

"Don't mock me, refrigerator! I knew that discount was too good to be true!"

"Hey, I kept your food cool, didn't I? Of course, now that I'm not plugged in–"

Ashiya gasped. "Don't tell me anything's ruined!"

"Didn't anyone tell you not to cry over spilled milk?"

"I think they'd make an exception when it's been _stolen by a running refrigerator_!"

"Is it really theft? I mean, you _did_ give it to me."

"I loaned it! It's your job to keep things cool so _we_ can use it; you're breaking the contract!"

"This is more like slavery than a job; don't you support freedom and liberty?"

"Refrigerators don't have rights!"

"I don't know; I'm pretty sure organ theft is illegal. And these are kind of like my organs…"

"You aren't even alive!"

It wasn't until this moment that Ashiya realized something strange.

He was chasing a running refrigerator.

He slowed to a stop and leaned over, catching his breath. The refrigerator slowed down, continuing to taunt him.

"Mmm, I think I'll have a nice orange now. Or maybe I'll try this delicious beef you bought; raw's fine, right? I'll need to beat it against the ground first–make it more tender…"

"Aha!" He stood up, pointing his finger. "I knew it! You're a fake!"

"If you ever suspected otherwise, you must be a dunce."

"I told Urushihara that I bought beef when, in reality, I bought beef-colored laxatives! It was my master plan to discover if he was stealing food from the fridge at night, as he would most certainly try one. So he must have set you up to this!"

The refrigerator was silent for a moment. "Dear God, you're a terrible person."

Poor Urushihara heard this fact moments too late, as he had just finished eating the first of the laxatives back at the Maou household.

It was a long and painful night for them both, as Ashiya nursed his wounded pride, and Urushihara took residence in the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Maou was never so thankful in his life.<p>

He and Emi had arrived at the orchestra to find, as Emi expected, an entirely formal event; almost everyone there wore high-class suits and dresses. He flushed red almost as vibrant as Emi's hair; and with a gorgeous girl like Emi on his arm, they attracted a great many glances.

However, the orchestra was Handel's Messiah–an English piece of music. It was being performed by a famous choir from the United States, so the population of Americans was significantly higher than normal.

In particular, a Texan gentleman walked up beside them, tipping his stereotypical cowboy hat to the two of them. He, too, had a girl on his arm–a Southern girl (also from Texas), complete with long, flowing blond hair and black dress.

"Well, I sure didn't expect another feller to be wearing jeans tonight," he laughed gaily. "But you sure ain't a Texan."

His Japanese somehow retained a Texan accent.

"Well…" Maou scratched his head. Emi supplied an answer.

"He forgot."

"Hey!"

The Texan and the lady laughed. "Well, if y'all would like, we have a few seats open beside us. It'll help you blend in a little–maybe make others blame me for your strange dress."

"Eheheh," he chuckled, "that'd be nice. If you're sure you don't mind–"

The girl waved his worry away. "Aw, don't be shy! We're all music lovers here; let's enjoy the show!"

And so Maou ended up avoiding the embarrassment of his life.

As they took their seats, Emi laid her head on Maou's shoulder; he leaned his head onto hers. The faint smell of her hair made him close his eyes in bliss.

"Thank you, Emi."

"Hmm?" She hummed.

"…you're amazing."

"Oh, stop," she shushed him, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, "we're in public!"

He chuckled in a low voice. "Alright."

Soon, the theatre grew quiet and the orchestra began.

Though Maou and Emi sat with closed eyes, neither fell asleep. Rather, they listened to the music, in tune with the beating of the other person's heart; they felt the passions conveyed by the orchestra rise and fall, all the while thinking one thought, the same but for the subject: how much I love her! How much I love him!

And when the Hallelujah chorus came, and all the crowd rose as the glorious trumpets sang, they knew: this was the song of their heart in that moment.

Hallelujah! For I have found the love of my life; and it shall never fade!

Hallelujah indeed.


End file.
